The Fifth of July
by SubwayWolf
Summary: Dallas Winston tells the gang where he was on the fireworks-lit night of the 4th of July. - Based on a true story from my life that happened on the same date, in 2010.


**A\N: This is a true story, not out of Dallas Winston's life, but straight out of mine. I happened on the night\morning of July 4th, 2010. my next-door neighbor is a police officer, and he's the nicest guy ever, he did his job. I substituted my cousin for Tim Shepard, as Buck and Curly resembled my kin and buddies. And my mom bailed me out, not Darrel Curtis. It was a damn good experience, being in the cooler. Taught me a lesson. But I don't recommend it, not one bit. **  
**Enjoy the first (and last) story that I will ever write in 3rd-person for the rest of my life. **

* * *

"Where have you been, Dal?"

"Nowhere, Steve…"

"You missed the Fourth of July Party we had at our house last night. It was a lot of fun, ain't that right, Sodapop?"

"Sure was. Good food, too. Lots of fireworks." Soda paused. "Dal, you were at the Shepard house, weren't you?"

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing, its just that Curly came by and told us you were in the cooler…we thought he was drunk and bullshitting us."

"You're kidding."

"No, Stevie's right. Is that true, Dally? Were you in the cooler again?"

Dallas sighed. "It was nothing…"

"Come on, Dally! Tell us the story!"

"Yeah, Dal! We wanna hear!"

"Fine…if you shut your mouths, maybe I can get around to tellin' it!"

Steve and Sodapop waited in eager silence.

"So it was just Tim, Buck, Curly and I. We were fucking around, drinking. A blindly drunk Tim Shepard decided 5:00 PM was a great time to start lighting off the fireworks, so we did. Unfortunately, none of them were the "legal" kinds. And, obviously oblivious to mine and Tim's criminal records, the conveniently-paced patrol cop sittin' across the street decided to let us off with a warning: put 'em away, and no trouble for us. Fair enough, right? Well by this time, I was also drunk, and two things happened; I drank more, and felt a sudden impulse to play baseball. So there I go, swinging Curly's baseball bat all around crying 'let's play' and Buck and the Shepard's are encouraging me and throwing things at me for me to hit. I hit this huge rock and it goes flying and hits the fuckin' cop's windshield instead."

Soda cracks up, and Steve, who's doing his best to hold in laughter, breaks as well.

"Hey! I told you two to keep yer mouths shut!" Dallas shouted, not very amused by the situation. Dallas switched back to the calm, storytelling mode he was in before and continued, "My excuse was that I was drunk. And then…I asked him if he wanted to play baseball."

Steve and Soda laughed again, but Dallas ignored it.

"Since I'm 'underage', that doesn't pass by him very well. He hauls me and Tim over to the county jail. Buck and Curly had bolted at the sight of the fuzz, so they weren't taken away. Now I don't remember this next part, but Mr. Timothy Shepard told me this morning. I went around and told the fuzz a bunch of words that are…well…," Dallas snuck a peek at Ponyboy and Johnny, who were now sitting in the bed of Darrel's pickup, listening as well. "Words that are inappropriate for kids," Dallas corrected himself, and then gleefully accepted the pouting from the youngest two Greasers. "Tim gave me the bright idea that I should throw my shoe at the warden. It hit him in the head." All four of the Greasers laughed, but not Dallas. "I woke up this morning in solitary confinement," he continued, for once not entirely proud of it. "And you know what I did? I laughed. I laughed so hard, because I thought it was a dream. But...it wasn't. I had a $420 bail on my ass. But who shows up, you ask? Good ole Darrel Shaynne Curtis, junior. My new best friend."

Winston smiled at the passing Curtis brother, who gave Dallas the universal signal for 'up yours'.

"He held me by the rough of the neck and made me apologize to the warden. And buddy, I smiled my most charming smile I possibly could while in pain. Being the nice guy that he is, he got Tim out as well. We got into the car and I thanked him. He told me that there was no way in hell that he'd be paying for the windshield, and that I'd have to rummage up the cash and pay for it myself. The damn coppers must have told him about that. But hey, I'll save up my money. I'll pay for it. I owe him that much."

"Wow, Dal. That's one hell of a story you've got there."

"Sure is, Johnnycake. Now excuse me. I have to go to the Shepard residence and slash a certain someone's tires."

With that, Dallas Winston was gone.


End file.
